STANDARD SKIER TYPES AND BINDING SETTINGS
Your skier type, height, weight, age and ski boot sole length are used by our shop technicians to determine the release/retention settings of your bindings
Type 1
Cautious skiing on smooth slopes of gentle to moderate pitch. Lighter than average release settings. General confusion.
Type 2
Average retention/release settings for average skiing by average skiers.
Type 3
Fast skiing on slopes of moderate to steep pitch. Decreased releasability to reduce risk of inadvertent release.
SUPPLEMENTARY TYPES AND RECOMMENDED SETTINGS
Type 4
"I'm pretty rad." Make them sign another waiver and set bindings +1 tighter than the recommended Type 3 setting.
Type 5
Had a Bad Experience Once and wants heels set tighter than toes or vice versa. If they have obvious facial scarring from a possible Superman-type double-ejection event, it's probably going to be the heels.
Type 6
Total bro who rolls in with a remount when the shop is dead and saves you from terminal boredom. Hook settings up however he wants, do bonus edge work and wax, collect beer and high fives. Now it's almost lunch time.
Type 7
Total bro who rolls in with a binding remount when it's busy and totally needs them right now. Stress out while doing the remount in the middle of the afternoon rush and drill a couple of bonus holes when you mis-align the jig. Your bro will be all, "Thanks, bro, I'll totally hook you up when I get back from Jackson," but he'll never hook you up and the manager will be all, "What's up with all the bro tunes around here lately?"
Type 8
Skier with ancient bindings that are turning yellow and stress-cracking from plastic degradation who gets all pissed when you tell them they need new bindings. They will not buy new bindings but will demand a discount on rental skis, which they will grumble about rather than thanking you for saving them from a Superman-type double-ejection event.
Type 9
Type 4 skier with his first Dynafit rig who plans on skiing it inbounds all the time with the toes locked out, "So I can still get after it." Urge them to Google "spiral tib-fib fracture" before agreeing to anything.
Type 10
Social Media Skier who requires a light setting but wants bindings to look like they are set to burly mode for downward-pointing chairlift Instagram posts. Set as normal, then use Sharpie to carefully modify the toe-piece DIN indicators to appear as if they are set on 17 instead of 7.
Type 11
Visitor to Colorado who has underestimated the edibles he bought at the dispensary. Set skis aside. Find them a chair and some goldfish crackers. Soothe them with this Bill Hicks line: "We are all one consciousness experiencing itself subjectively, there is no such thing as death, life is only a dream, and we are all the imagination of ourselves."
Type 12
Guy who comes in with his girlfriend/wife and tells you exactly what she "needs" without letting her speak. Set his bindings correctly, then covertly remove all wax from his skis. It's a small gesture in the fight against patriarchal oppression, but never underestimate the power of No Wax.
Type 13
Guy who complains that the demo fleet doesn't have skis in a 198 because he totally needs that even though anyone who needs the biggest, baddest skis already owns a pair and isn't bothering some hungover kid in a ski shop about it.
Type 14
Type 13 skier who needs their settings cranked because they are such experts, but are incapable of turning a fucking screw themselves and setting the damn things wherever they want like a grown-ass adult. Go outside and blow a quick one-hitter behind the dumpsters.
Type 15
Someone with a tele or AT setup so weird, janky, or complex that only God can help them. Make the sign of the cross, hand them the screwdriver, and point them to the workbench.
Type 16
Skier who asks you endless detailed questions about new skis while shopping for them online on his phone. Set bindings as recommended and stealthily insert small pieces of hardware such as washers or screws between their boot liner and shell.
Type 17
Skier with $90,000 Audi and brand new skis that he bought somewhere else who complains about the price of a $35 binding mount. Offer them a complimentary tune and then file skis to razor sharpness from tip to tail and leave the burr for maximum hookiness.
Type Infinity
So good they have transcended bindings and require nothing more than a perfunctory sandpapering of the top sheet for retention.
Type Zero
Monoskier. Mandatory non-release settings.
This originally published in the October 2016 (45.2) issue of POWDER.
Your skier type, height, weight, age and ski boot sole length are used by our shop technicians to determine the release/retention settings of your bindings
Type 1
Cautious skiing on smooth slopes of gentle to moderate pitch. Lighter than average release settings. General confusion.
Type 2
Average retention/release settings for average skiing by average skiers.
Type 3
Fast skiing on slopes of moderate to steep pitch. Decreased releasability to reduce risk of inadvertent release.
SUPPLEMENTARY TYPES AND RECOMMENDED SETTINGS
Type 4
"I'm pretty rad." Make them sign another waiver and set bindings +1 tighter than the recommended Type 3 setting.
Type 5
Had a Bad Experience Once and wants heels set tighter than toes or vice versa. If they have obvious facial scarring from a possible Superman-type double-ejection event, it's probably going to be the heels.
Type 6
Total bro who rolls in with a remount when the shop is dead and saves you from terminal boredom. Hook settings up however he wants, do bonus edge work and wax, collect beer and high fives. Now it's almost lunch time.
Type 7
Total bro who rolls in with a binding remount when it's busy and totally needs them right now. Stress out while doing the remount in the middle of the afternoon rush and drill a couple of bonus holes when you mis-align the jig. Your bro will be all, "Thanks, bro, I'll totally hook you up when I get back from Jackson," but he'll never hook you up and the manager will be all, "What's up with all the bro tunes around here lately?"
Type 8
Skier with ancient bindings that are turning yellow and stress-cracking from plastic degradation who gets all pissed when you tell them they need new bindings. They will not buy new bindings but will demand a discount on rental skis, which they will grumble about rather than thanking you for saving them from a Superman-type double-ejection event.
Type 9
Type 4 skier with his first Dynafit rig who plans on skiing it inbounds all the time with the toes locked out, "So I can still get after it." Urge them to Google "spiral tib-fib fracture" before agreeing to anything.
Type 10
Social Media Skier who requires a light setting but wants bindings to look like they are set to burly mode for downward-pointing chairlift Instagram posts. Set as normal, then use Sharpie to carefully modify the toe-piece DIN indicators to appear as if they are set on 17 instead of 7.
Type 11
Visitor to Colorado who has underestimated the edibles he bought at the dispensary. Set skis aside. Find them a chair and some goldfish crackers. Soothe them with this Bill Hicks line: "We are all one consciousness experiencing itself subjectively, there is no such thing as death, life is only a dream, and we are all the imagination of ourselves."
Type 12
Guy who comes in with his girlfriend/wife and tells you exactly what she "needs" without letting her speak. Set his bindings correctly, then covertly remove all wax from his skis. It's a small gesture in the fight against patriarchal oppression, but never underestimate the power of No Wax.
Type 13
Guy who complains that the demo fleet doesn't have skis in a 198 because he totally needs that even though anyone who needs the biggest, baddest skis already owns a pair and isn't bothering some hungover kid in a ski shop about it.
Type 14
Type 13 skier who needs their settings cranked because they are such experts, but are incapable of turning a fucking screw themselves and setting the damn things wherever they want like a grown-ass adult. Go outside and blow a quick one-hitter behind the dumpsters.
Type 15
Someone with a tele or AT setup so weird, janky, or complex that only God can help them. Make the sign of the cross, hand them the screwdriver, and point them to the workbench.
Type 16
Skier who asks you endless detailed questions about new skis while shopping for them online on his phone. Set bindings as recommended and stealthily insert small pieces of hardware such as washers or screws between their boot liner and shell.
Type 17
Skier with $90,000 Audi and brand new skis that he bought somewhere else who complains about the price of a $35 binding mount. Offer them a complimentary tune and then file skis to razor sharpness from tip to tail and leave the burr for maximum hookiness.
Type Infinity
So good they have transcended bindings and require nothing more than a perfunctory sandpapering of the top sheet for retention.
Type Zero
Monoskier. Mandatory non-release settings.
This originally published in the October 2016 (45.2) issue of POWDER.
